Wanting to Play a Game of MakeBelive
by realized
Summary: Hermione seems to burry herself in homework. But why? [femmeslash, mind on fire] HermioneGinny


_I wrote this kinda late, so sorry about spelling faults, at first it was only supposed to be like, half a page long, but it somehow developed.? I just wanted to write down some of my feelings about this, as it happend to me, - and still seems to happen to me - quite often? Um... goodie. Now enjoy:_

**Wanting to play make-believe**

No. C'mon Granger! Say it out loud damn it! Say it: NO! You're not thinking of her. Never had, never will. Just because you're well.. Kinda… dyke, and you get along so nicely doesn't make it so. You can't act on it. You've just got to do what's best for all. Repress it. Again. And again. It never stops does it?

She must never know the truth, she'd be far too disturbed, tell her mother, and you'll have your whole family on your back. On the other hand, her family loves you, well, not as much as they love Harry, but still if it happened maybe it wouldn-

Stop. Right. There.

She's better off without you. Better burry yourself in the homework once again. It's the only thing you seem to do lately. Just because it keeps you distracted. Well, the first couple of years you did it because you like to be well liked, and being a little goody-goody never seemed to bother you in the least. But still, it's like; you can't stand to be near her. Yet, you feel like you're not complete when she's away from you. Being is love is overrated, it's not a grand experience, it's not something you strive for, and you don't want to be in love. You want to be rid of this horrid feeling of 'belonging'. You know many people, well, most of the girls you talk with, who love the feeling, the thrill, the passionate fantasies and so on. And though you on one hand find it exciting - in theory - to be in love, you hate it, but you don't know exactly why.

Liar. You know why. You're guessing most people love the thrill, the thrill of trying to 'get with' the person in question, to try your luck, and you just aren't that lucky. You know it can never be, not even if you tried your hardest. It saddens you that you're different, you don't want to be. But it's not like you can help it. You didn't know you'd fallen in love till it was to late. And then... well, let's just say it was too late.

Something in you tells you it's late. The library isn't a good place for sleeping. You should know. You've tried it one too many times. You decide it's late again, and stand up, gather your books, and walk to your head dorm. As you prepare yourself for bed, brushing your teeth, put on your pyjamas, and put your books on a shelf, you muse to yourself it's Friday. Tomorrow'll be Saturday. And all you'll have to do is study and avoid the boys. You've got a hard time looking them in the eye lately. Ron - because you know how he feels about you, that's why he kissed you last spring. And Harry - because he and Ginny've broken up several times, and when they get back together, they're all lovey-dovey, and then… then they go back to fighting, and it starts all over again.

In the back of your mind, before you go to sleep, you want something cliché to happen, though your logic tells you, it is a waste of time thinking about it, dreaming about it, hoping for it.

But as you lay there in your warm big bed, when the darkness and the quiet seem to have surrounded you, you smile, all alone. Always alone, here in an empty head girl room. The same scenarios playing the replay game it always does.

Like, in the summers when you stay in her room with you, watching her breathe like you use to, and she'd somehow moan your name, wake up and realize she felt for you too. Of course, in your mind there's more detail, more passion, more… happiness and angst to go along with your little 'fantasies'.

You have another one, where she's sulking around, longing for you, thinking you was into Ron, and… Then, in a moment of truth you'd confess your love for one another. But Ginny always seems to be a happy vibrant little goddess, so much for that plan right?

Or your personal favourite though you don't know why, or even remotely how you'd end up in that situation, because you're far too scared of revealing something personal in such a foolish game as truth or dare.

But you love the idea of her being dared to kiss you, you can almost feel her lips on you as you wish it, and she'd enjoy the kiss so much realizing it was all she ever dreamed of. Until you remember it's not likely you're even a standard kisser, you've only kissed a few. Ron, Viktor and a few others at parties. Nothing to brag about.

Right now she's single. You like her best that way. Because you don't have to feel awkward around her. Or talk about how fantastic her boyfriend is when you're dying inside every single time she mentions his name.

You smile to yourself bitterly, knowing it'll never be so. Never as you want it to be. You love your friendship. You tell her often. She smiles and tells you she loves you. You've never said those words to her though. You can't seem to get them out. You're afraid if those words slips away, a new sentence will follow, and you'll say too much.

You clear your mind as well as you can, snuggle up into your pillow, prop you hand under you head, feeling the sleep overpowering your body.

You hear the door go, but you shrug it off knowing you're just at the verge of sleep.

But there's a whisper. "'Mione? Are you awake?" it's her.

I half moan, half grunt "mmgh? Gin?"

"I.. Never get to see you anymore. You're always busy,.. Studying…" She seems hesitant, but you know it's true.

"S-sorry?" You stutter. Not knowing what to say to her.

"No, oh no, don't apologise, I know how important grades and so are to you."

"Still, um, but, Gin, it's late so-?" You ask, since she's just standing there.

She squirms, sighs and says "Harry. He um.. We're not even together right now, but we fought, and.. Could I sleep here?" She finish, but don't wait for an answer as she strides over to your bed and plops herself down next to you, puts an arm around you, and kisses your cheek. "G'night Hermione." "Night Gin."

You know she only came to you for comfort. To feel that at least somebody cared for her. Looking for a friend in need. But even though you know she'd never love you the way you yearn for her to, you embrace the moment. And you imagine that she's yours. Even if it is only make-believe. Maybe you've only got her for the night, but for once you feel justified for overlooking the facts and the logic, and go straight to a pretend world. Even if it is just for now.


End file.
